Baby It's Cold Outside (Formerly Known as The Christmas Star)
by lanieloveu
Summary: Emily O'Brian has only ever had one wish for Christmas. Can a jaded CEO make it come true? Heath turned to see a figure sleeping on the steps of his building: A young girl huddled under a thin blanket to keep warm. "Hey?" He said. "Guess what you're not allowed to do here?" "Sleep." "Emily answered, getting up, getting her things. (A tale of two lonely hearts at Christmas)


**Me again, Just dropping in to give you this little excerpt from one of my favorites I had many requests to let you all know when this was available to read again and here it is.**

 **You can find it on Amazon, KOBO, and Barnes and Noble. The link for Amazon is on my profile.**

 **As always, thank you for your support,**

 **Lanie.**

* * *

 **Enjoy**

 **Chapter One**

Emily has been treading through Downtown Los Angeles for a little over an hour, unable to get the song Walking in a Winter Wonderland out of her head since she'd heard a little girl skipping along to it earlier. She ran out of change and had to leave the warmth of the McDonald's fast food restaurant once she finished her coffee, but not before bumming two plastic bags from the cashier to wrap her feet in. It was the smartest thing she'd done all day because the heavy rain was showing no signs of letting up. Her soggy UGG boots would have kept her feet wet and she would have most likely caught Pneumonia.

When the weather turned cold last week, she'd taken what little money she had left from her General Relief for the month and bought a rain coat and umbrella. She wanted better shoes, but all they had left were tan UGGs. They were better than her rundown sneakers so she bought those too. All in all, it is the best twenty bucks she ever spent because, even though the coat is a bit big, it's doing a great job keeping her dry.

She isn't very familiar with Los Angeles. She's only been in the city for a few months and she's made sure to stay on the outskirts of Downtown, but judging from the now tall, elaborately designed buildings surrounding her, she is right smack dab in the heart of it.

It's close to morning, but the sun isn't even coming up yet and the streets are pretty much deserted at this hour so she figures it will be safe. She'll be sure to be out of the area before sunrise when all the big businesses open. The last thing she wants is to be surrounded by people who look right past her like she doesn't exist, or even worse, the ones who turn up their noses and say cruel things to her while demanding she get a job and stop living off them when she's using her food stamp card. Emily would give anything for a job. She wants to be a productive member of society. She went to school to do just that and graduated at the top of her class. But six months ago, it all went terribly wrong.

She shakes her head, pulling herself from that memory, not wanting to go back there again as she comes across a building and stops short to look up at it. It's tall and sleek, made mostly of silver stained glass and the way it looks in the rain is eye-catching. It seems practically deserted, but surely, some type of cleaning crew or security guard is working the property. She looks around, but she doesn't see anyone.

"Maybe because it's close to Christmas." She thinks out loud.

She can see a huge tree still lit in the lobby. Wanting to get a better look at it, she looks around again for signs of anyone before braving the steps that get her closer. She loved Christmas trees as a child. Her foster father at the time, Bill O'Brian would always let her put the big star on the top. He would lift her up and sit her on his shoulders so she could do it all by herself.

 _"Don't forget to make a wish, Emily." His voice comes into her mind loud and clear, as if he's standing right next to her._ She finds herself doing just what she remembers, closing her eyes really tight and making a wish. She opens them as memories of her sitting the bright-golden star on the tall, sturdy branch right in the middle of the tree fade from her mind.

Bill said she wasn't allowed to tell what the wish was or it wouldn't come true, but she always caved and told him anyway. She just couldn't keep secrets from him and it was always the same wish.

 _"I wished for a home for Christmas." She would tug him down to whisper it in his ear before her foster mom would help her get ready for bed._

For Emily, a home meant not just a warm, safe place to live, but a place where she was loved. Families lived in homes. Moms and dads and their kids lived in homes. Happy couples, like the ones she saw on TV, lived in homes. That's what she wished for and secretly that is what she is wishing for now as she cranes her neck up to see the bright gold star that sits atop the huge tree in the office lobby.

"I wish for a home for Christmas." She whispers.

She sighs deeply, angry at herself that she still has that useless wish in her. Wishing on some stupid Christmas star has never worked and she is _almost_ certain it never will... almost. Her head swings from side to side, taking in her surroundings. There's a dry patch in the corner that's sheltered by the overhang of the building. It's dark, except for the large column in front of it with the words, Hanson Enterprises, giving off a bit of illumination. It's out of street view, hidden by a half-sized wall, so it looks fairly decent and it's much better than the bus stop bench she was going to sleep on at this point.

Thinking she can rest safely for just a little while, she goes over, shrugs her backpack off her arms and gets her blanket out to cover herself. The ground is incredibly cold, so she holds herself to keep some heat in. Exhausted, she tries not to, but she lets her eyes close and drifts off to sleep.

…..

"Why does Christmas bring out the best in people?" Amanda, the VP of Hanson Enterprise gushes while she and her boss, CEO, Heath Hanson walk through the festive lobby. They've spent all night working on a deal and at 4am, they hit pay dirt with a much better outcome than expected.

"It doesn't." He corrects her. "You just get soft during this time of year. I bet you're one of those that thinks nothing bad ever happens at Christmastime. Well, I don't fall for the hype of that shit. Life goes on and people still die."

"Always the cynic." She says.

"Damn right."

He's seen too much not to be. Messed up shit happens and it somehow always finds a way to fuck him over. Life has been extremely hard on him and being all jolly for Christmas sure as hell isn't going to change any of that.

"Uh oh." Amanda says, stepping out the door that her boss holds open for her.

"What's wrong?" He asks, letting the door swing close before stepping up beside her. She motions with her briefcase and he turns to see the figure sleeping on the ground. "This is just fucking great." He steps closer. "I thought they stopped these people from coming down here. Where the hell is security?" He looks around for his incompetent nightguard that must be somewhere sleeping instead of doing his damn job.

He's about to use the tip of his Tom Ford boot to nudge the vagrant awake because he sure as hell isn't going to touch him. His eyes adjust to the darkness and he's able to see the figure for what it truly is: a young girl, thin and cold. She's huddled in the fetal position under a thin gray blanket to keep warm from the cold rain. The almost deathly pale color of her skin nearly gives him a panic attack. The last person he saw with skin that pale was his mom. He held her hand as the life drained out of her body one cold winter's morning, much like this one, after years of being ravaged by breast cancer. Images of her flash in his head to where he has to take a step back from the girl on the ground.

"Amanda, go on ahead. I'll take care of this." He doesn't want her to see him so shaken by something like this, but she still ventures over. She sighs, looking at the young girl on the ground. Her heart fills with pity for her.

Amanda Brown is a bitch in business. She has to be, dealing with the male chauvinist assholes who try to run her over because she's a woman, an African American woman at that. But underneath all the hard-ass sass and bravado is a heart of gold and she hates seeing someone so young and downtrodden this close to Christmas.

"Are you sure? I'll call Phil over. Maybe he can get her to move and let her know she just can't sleep here." She doesn't want her boss to wake the young girl. He has the finesse of a wildcat with a thorn in his paw and he is the last thing this girl needs right now.

"I'll handle it. Phil is waiting for you at your car. Have a good morning and I don't expect to see you until tomorrow."

"See you then." She takes the no-nonsense tone he gives her to mean he no longer wants to discuss it, so she reluctantly walks away, determined to tell Phil about the situation anyway when she sees him at her car with the door open for her to get in.

Alone with the girl, Heath prepares himself to deal with her. Slipping on his CEO persona, he kneels next to her, puts his hand on her shoulder, and gently shakes her awake.

"Hey?" He says. Her eyes spring open wide with surprise. Even in this dim light, Heath sees they shine bright blue. Emily looks around, embarrassed at herself for falling asleep and getting caught. "Guess what you're not allowed to do here?" The well-dressed man she hopes will take pity on her asks.

"Sleep." She says, quickly getting up and getting her things.

 **Chapter Two**

Heath pulls his coat closed as the wind threatens to blow it open. He watches the girl as she stuffs her thin blanket in her backpack and adjusts her black, too large for her frame, coat before strapping it on her shoulders. She fumbles with her broken umbrella, trying to get it to open, but gives up after a minute. He glances down at her shoes and they are those ugly, shapeless boots with the fur inside, he wishes he can ban out of existence, but hers are soaking wet and leaving footprints on the dry part of the ground as she walks away from him.

Standing secure in his resolve, he lets her go, confident in the knowledge she's gotten the message that she isn't welcomed to loiter on his property. In fact, he's sure he'll never see her again, sure that she will fade back into wherever the hell it is she came from and that will most certainly be that. As pretty as she is, she can bounce back on her feet. Someone will take pity on her.

 _Or take advantage of her._

"Fuck." He mutters to himself, unable to control the images flooding his mind of her in some hospital bed or in some morgue, dead like his mother.

Visions of those clear blue eyes staring up vacant and lifeless are taunting him as she walks away, so much so that he begins to follow behind her. He's looking like a lost dog that's just been petted by a kind stranger and now he won't leave her alone. He's fighting with himself to just let her go. The devil on his left shoulder asks him why should he give a rat's ass about what happens to her? She's a grown woman, young yes, but capable of taking care of herself. After all, he's been doing it since he was eighteen. True, he has the support and backing of his family, but he never burdens them with anything. He's determined to do it all on his own or die trying.

He's a second away from turning around and walking away, agreeing with that shoulder devil. But when Emily adjusts that hideously ugly, old sopping wet boot on her foot and then still has the decency to wave goodbye with a smile, the battle is lost. The angel on his right shoulder sits back, not having to say a word. He shakes his head, disgusted at what's about to come out of his mouth.

"But there is a place you can get warm inside." _Is he saying this? Is he really fucking saying this?_

She turns around to face him, missing Phil, his head of security, whose right foot is just hitting the first step, climbing up to deal with the young girl. Amanda told him she'd left her alone with the boss and that the poor thing had been sleeping on the cold ground in the dark. She thought she might be hungry and gave him some money to give to her, a whole one hundred-dollar bill.

Phil has to think about giving her that. She can be strung out on drugs and that much money all at once will surely do her in. He decides he'll take her somewhere, get her something to eat, and put Amanda's money with his to get her a nice warm hotel room for a few days, at least until after Christmas.

Amanda made such ado about her. He feels he has to help. Images of his own little seven- year- old Neveah spring into his head. He feels guilty enough that he won't be able to see her at all this Christmas. He doesn't need any more on his conscious. He shakes his head as his foot hits the step. He doesn't even know this woman and he's already on a mission to help her. This is why he hates this time of year. He is a military man, for fuck sakes. He's seen all kinds of atrocities in war, but damn if Christmas doesn't turn him into a goddamn bleeding heart. He's curious as to what the girl looks like, but as his foot hits that step, she abruptly turns away from him to face his boss.

Heath Hanson, worst fucking employer in the world because he refuses to give him time off to be with Neveah and the best fucking employer in the world because he makes sure he can provide her with anything and everything she needs, except time with her dad at Christmas, of course. His wife, Tonya, is convinced it's because he doesn't want to be alone on the holidays. Phil loves his wife more than life itself, but she has blinders on when it comes to their employer. Still, he can't complain. The guy is fair enough and if it wasn't for him, he would never have met Tonya Green. Now, Tonya Curtis: wife, love of his life, and personal house manager to Mr. Hanson.

With his foot, still on that first step, Phil looks up at the boss and stops when he gives him that look that means keep away. It's a quick glance. If he'd have lingered any longer, the young girl would have followed his stare and saw Phil. Knowing the boss like he does, Phil's sure he thinks the sight of him will make her run. The poor thing doesn't know that he's the one she should be running from.

Phillip Curtis is a mean looking burly guy. He admits it. Hell, he even takes pride in it. His large, buff frame doesn't help soften his appearance, and that's the way he likes it. Who the hell wants a pretty bodyguard unless it's Kevin Costner? Now, don't get him wrong, he's a looker. He's no Kevin Costner, but he turns many women's heads. He will never be called a pretty boy though.

His boss, on the other hand, is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with dark brown eyes and even darker hair. He has the charm of a rattlesnake, but women still just trust him right out the bat. He exudes pretty and that's what makes him so dangerous. Not that he would ever physically harm a woman, but shit, he is a Webby motherfucker and he always catches the attention of the gorgeous ones, even when he isn't trying and he never tries. Phil has never seen a young, attractive man who wants absolutely nothing to do with the opposite sex if it didn't involve just a quick fuck and duck.

You would think with all his money and good looks he'd be another playboy, having a trophy wife, a side chick, _and_ a mistress on the side, but not Heath Hanson. He'd much rather spend his time alone being miserable about the fact that he has more money than God and thinks people only want to get close to him because of it. Rich people with problems is what Phil likes to call it and he wishes he had those problems. He takes the hint his boss just threw him and heads back the way he came. The boss drove himself to work today, so Phil can wait for the girl to pass him and offer her his services. He just hopes the boss doesn't chew her out too bad first.

The guy can't even have a heart at Christmastime.

….

Emily abruptly turns around and regards the stranger. Her long dark brown hair moves with her, only to come around and get in her face. She brushes it away as best she can, but she lost her brush a while back and it's become a bit wild. She smiles at the man who seems to be looking at her with a sense of familiarity, like she reminds him of someone. She has that type of face. People always mistake her for someone else. They always say if it wasn't for her eyes, they'd swear she was the person they were mistaking her for. But she's never the one they're looking for. The stranger seems kind enough, but she knows better than to believe it's genuine. Not many people in the world are nice just for the sake of it. She's had to learn that lesson the hard way.

"I wouldn't want to be any trouble." She says, while stuffing the one hand that isn't holding the umbrella in her coat pocket to keep it warm.

The rain hasn't let up at all and judging by the closeness of the thunder and the lightning crackling above her, it isn't going to. She pulls the hood of her coat over her head, thanking God she spent the extra five at the Salvation Army it took to get the one with the hood, and turns to be on her way. She figures the best way to stay dry is to run along the side of the building, hugging the wall. She hopes there's no run-off anywhere. For a moment, she's tempted to ask him for three bucks so she can ride the metro line for a few hours, but can't bring herself to do it. She's about to just take off when he speaks to her again.

"It would be no trouble at all. I feel bad for having to wake you, but you looked so uncomfortable down on the ground." Heath plays up the concerned angle. It isn't far off the mark. He is somewhat concerned about her and he can see that she's considering it. The fact that she's wearing on her bottom lip with her teeth tells him so. "It's very warm inside." He continues to appeal to her. "We have coffee and donuts." He wants to kick himself. What the fuck is he saying? He sounds like a goddamn pussy begging her to come inside. But still he waits almost anxiously for her to agree.

"Maybe just for a minute." She says, leaning on the outside of her feet.

 _Her boots must be very uncomfortable._ He thinks as he steps back, giving her room to follow and he's relieved when she does.

He unlocks the door and leads her through the lobby. The big Christmas tree that his personal assistant, Daniella, bugged him about getting since that first Monday after Thanksgiving, is still lit. He's passed the damn thing every day since they put it up three weeks ago, but he's never paid it much attention until just now when he sees the young girl eyeing it as they pass in front of it. He grins at her when she inhales the scent of the pine and he finds himself mimicking the action.

 _It does smell good._ Why he never bothered to stop and inhale it before is beyond his comprehension. _Too busy._ He shrugs it off. He takes her to the large employee lounge, knowing the staff keeps an endless supply of fresh donuts and coffee. The night crew just sat them out before they went off duty an hour ago.

"How do you like your coffee?" He asks as he directs her to one of the chairs. He's actually going to wait on her.

"Um…" Emily says. Well, she doesn't really know what to say as she shrugs off her backpack. She keeps on the coat because she's not planning on staying long, but she does push the sleeves up to her elbows. Apparently, she is as taken aback by his gesture to serve her as well. "Eight sugars and six creams." He frowns. "I like sugar." She explains, guiltily. He questions her no further as he goes about making it for her, bringing it over with a tray of donuts.

He unwraps the tray and watches her take the first sip of coffee. She hums a mmmm, letting him know it's to her liking. He keeps watching as she takes a napkin and picks up a donut glazed with chocolate and stuffs it in her mouth like he's going to change his mind and snatch it away from her.

 _Fuck, she is starving._

For Heath Hanson, that fact alone has him reeling. He is in a silent panic now, looking around for food to give her. He can't let her fill up on donuts. She needs protein and sustenance. He goes into the large refrigerator and starts pulling stuff out. He finds something of Daniella's: a large microwavable dish. A Hungry Man, no less, with her name permanently markered on it. He wants to laugh at her as he pops it in the microwave. He never would have thought little Miss I Only Munch on Fresh Fruit at My Desk All Day, would ever let a Hungry Man pass her lips, but thank fuck she does. It has Salisbury Steak and mushroom, mashed potatoes, mixed veggies, the works.

He brings the dish, including a dinner roll and somebody's unopened bottle of orange juice over and gives it to her. She picks up the utensils and digs in. So focused on eating, she doesn't say another word or even looks in his direction. He watches, satisfied as she shovels it in her mouth. She's trying to be neat. He can see she has table manners, but she's eating quick. He doesn't even notice her breathing. It upsets him that her hunger is so severe. Finally, slowing down when the meal is half gone, she opens the orange juice, and takes a big gulp full.

"Thank you." She says, topping it back up. Her hunger is dull enough now so that she can eat at a normal pace and function again.

He remembers vividly what that was like. The sharp pain of hunger and the gobbling down of a meal, unable to control yourself from doing it. You don't even realize how hungry you are until the food is placed in front of you. When his mom died, he refused to eat for weeks thinking it would somehow bring her back. It had gotten so bad that his dad was going to have him hospitalized. His stepmom talked him out of it, taking it upon herself to take care of him. The first time she convinced him to eat, he ate so fast his stomach couldn't take it and he threw it all up. She gave him more, feeding it to him to make sure he ate it slow. He still feels embarrassed about that. Ten years old and he had to be spoon fed like an infant.

"You are very welcome, Miss—" He pauses so she will tell him her name, curious now as to what it might be.

"Emily."

"Emily? Emily what?"

"O'Brian." She says. "Emily O'Brian."

It wasn't her real name. Her real name was Amelia Bogner, but she had no ties to that name. She long ago started calling herself Emily O'Brian because she felt connected to Bill O'Brian, her favorite foster father.

"I'm Heath."

"Nice to meet you, Heath."

"Nice to meet you too, Emily."

"So, you work here, right? What is it that you do?" She asks, looking around like the whole building is made of just this employee lounge.

She's actually scoping out possible exits, just in case he turns into some grabby jerk. She really doesn't think he will, but she's long since stopped being surprised at how many pervs hide inside expensive suits. He sits back and regards her for two reasons: one, she doesn't know who he is, which isn't all that shocking, really. How could she possibly know? It's reason two that has him feeling quite amused: the fact that she is so boldly asking him questions. No one here has ever done that before, ever.

"I help with Human Resources." He says, not wanting to make her feel any more uncomfortable by telling her that he owns the company. Besides, it wasn't a complete lie. No one is hired without his approval. She seems to relax at hearing what he does and he knows he's read her right. "What made you stop and rest here?" Whatever it is, he's going to get rid of it if he can. He doesn't want his building to be a magnet for the homeless. He'll help this one, but no more.

"The building looked pretty in the rain." Emily says, unwrapping her dinner roll, peeling it apart, and spreading the little pad of butter that came with it in the middle. She doesn't tell him about wanting to get closer to the Christmas tree. She still feels stupid about that wish. "I didn't mean to fall asleep though, that's for sure."

"How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?" By the looks of her it's been a while. She looks down right exhausted, in fact.

"A few days. The shelters are full this time of year because of the cold. I had a space at the women's shelter down by the mission, but I gave it up to this lady and her little girl. The other shelters, I don't feel comfortable in. I don't like being around a lot of men. Some of them are kind of scary."

"I can imagine they would be."

He's run into a few homeless men from time to time and he has to agree with her. They make him feel uneasy and he's not one that gets intimidated. He can only imagine how they make a tiny thing like her feel. She wipes her hands clean with her napkin and reaches for Heath's arm. He's momentarily taken off guard, but he doesn't pull away. Her small fingers circle around his forearm and he can't help but notice how slender they are and how very cold her touch is. _She must be chilled to the bone._ Holding his wrist up to her face so that she can read the time on his Rolex, she gasps.

"It's getting late. I better get going. The last thing you need is to get caught sneaking someone like me in here. Thanks again for the food and for being so nice, Heath." Before he can say anything to stop her, she's up with her backpack, walking out of the lounge and right into trouble.

"Hey, you can't be in here. Who the hell let you in, anyway? Where are you coming from? Are you stealing food? Who are you?"

Emily can only stare at the man in black as he bombards her with question after question, not giving her time to answer a single one. Heath gets up to see who the hell that is yelling at her like that. One of the morning security guards just coming on duty has Emily stopped nearby. When he notices his boss, he stands with his mouth agape. He's never seen the man down here before and doesn't quite know what to make of him. Emily turns to look at him too with guilt written all over her face for what Heath assumes is him getting busted for helping her.

"Nobody let me in. I snuck in. He was just kicking me out." She says of Heath. "I'm a nobody."

Her words make Heath's blood boil. How could she fucking say that about herself? He gets that she's trying to not get him into any trouble for letting her in, but fuck that. She isn't a nobody.

"Emily, wait." Heath calls out to her as she runs, but it's no use. She's gone.


End file.
